Red Rain
by WalkingDictionary
Summary: It’s just a routine check, like the one for Tobias Hankle. Wait, that means...JJ and Reid are in trouble again.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing…except the computer this was typed on, and maybe not even that.**

**A/N: This is just something that popped into my head as I was listening to a song. Incidently, I do not own the song either.**

**Spoilers for Revelations--lots of Revelations-related things.**

***~***

FBI Agents Jennifer "JJ" Jareau and Doctor Spencer Reid examine a small building set into the hill behind it. Several tanks line the top, and Reid makes a humming noise deep in his throat. He is thinking. What about, JJ doesn't care, as long as they aren't in danger. She wants to call the rest of the team, but there is no cell service here and she is reminded of that nearly fatal day in Georgia.

Just like that time, the other agents know where they have gone. But will they arrive in time to save Reid from her lack of backup?

JJ shakes her head, desperately trying to dislodge the fear and guilt that stages a coup in her mind every time she remembers Tobias Hankle. She needs to be in the here and now just in case the Unsub—_Hankle_—is hiding in the dubious-looking shelter.

They stand still for many moments before Reid says quietly, "4:00 p.m." That is the time the Unsub has designated for abducting his newest victims. He made sure the local police knew that. The classic sign of a remorseful killer trying to reach for help. It's 3:50 now. He looks at her, large expressive eyes asking for her consent in exploring the Unsub's territory. Logically, the Unsub shouldn't be here now, but he's already changed his type of victims once, moving from male-female couples to male-male, a sign that he is devolving. Nothing is sure at this point in the man's sick game.

JJ waits for Reid to make the first move since he is the "field" agent. She really would rather not enter any structure, barn or luxurious house, but she knows he has other plans. And really, they need to catch this bastard before he hurts anymore people. Suddenly, Reid grabs her hand, using the joined appendages to point at an opening in the face of the squat hideout.

"There's a door," his voice is excited and he barely remembers to whisper—some unspoken rule they agreed on when no other sound was immediately audible when they arrived at this secluded property. She notices that the "door" is really just an open hole. "It's dark though," she hears a slight tremble in his voice and is reminded that the "inherent lack of light" scares him. "We never did confirm place of death, did we?" She knows his question is rhetorical, he never forgets anything. He pulls out the small flashlight she made him bring, holding it carefully in his long fingers.

"We're not splitting up," she warns him as they remove their guns from their holsters. A nod makes a strand of hair fall over his eye. She smiles briefly, wondering if she'll ever not have the feeling of being his older sister.

Together, they advance on the doorway. To her, it looks like a gaping mouth waiting to swallow them and she shudders. He notices, shooting her a puzzled look before stepping into the darkness. Why _is_ she afraid of the dark?

Something feels wrong. The ground is squishy and there is an overwhelmingly iron scent in the air. Reid's flashlight illuminates small flashes of the room and they both gasp lightly at the fact that everything is drenched in red.

"Blood," he says, and he sounds like he wants to throw up.

"Blood," she confirms, just to cement the fact that they are most definitely in trouble. Hankle is hiding in the darkness, moving quickly enough to avoid Reid's panicked sweeps of the room.

Behind them, a metal slab doubling as a door swings closed. "It didn't lock," he whispers after a moment. "We should be able to get out." Before she can respond, or they can move, the ceiling above them groans. It sounds almost as if a grate is being opened.

Suddenly a sprinkling of liquid drains onto them. The light, moving quickly again, shows the redness of the water. The iron taste makes her want to cry.

They are being baptized in blood.

"Now we know where the blood from the victims went," Reid whispers against her ear, covering his mouth in a futile attempt to keep the liquid from entering his body. She's certain that more than the fact that they are the Unsub's newest victims is making his voice unsteady. "The door?"

She nods, leading the way towards the entrance. She makes it halfway, slipping in the blood. Hysterical, and not quite sure why she is, she begins panicking, flailing her arms wildly. It takes her seconds to realize Reid's hand is neither Hankle nor his dogs.

It takes Reid a few more minutes to completely calm her down. Minutes they don't have. JJ is proud of her baby brother, overcoming his fears to help her. At the door, Reid tries pushing and pulling with no results. She tries too, just because she can't think of anything else to do.

"It's vacuum sealed." She waits patiently for him to disagree with her, point out the flawed logic behind her statement, maybe regurgitate some random trivia fact about vacuum sealing or even just vacuums, but he remains silent. She grabs the flashlight, shining it into his face. He barely registers the light. He's scared of something, and she's seen him in a lot of other potentially dangerous situations so it's not from being a victim.

A particularly large glob of partially congealed blood lands on his shoulder and she thinks he'll go crazy wiping at it. Suddenly, she realizes what's wrong.

"You're afraid of blood?"

He stares at her while still scraping and smearing red over his shoulder. He turns, marching away from her. Is he mad at her?

He's only a few feet ahead of her when the gentle rain becomes harder. She feels bigger drops splashing over her.

There's blood everywhere now. She can feel it dripping down her face, down her clothes. It sticks to her. It makes her sticky. Ahead of her, stopped in his tracks from the increased blood raining down on them, Reid makes a small noise of discomfort.

He usually hides it so well that she doesn't ever remember he's afraid of blood. Now she wonders why she ever forgot. Or maybe he thought he told her and really didn't. She curses both their memories before another splash of liquid on her forehead snaps her back to their situation.

The copious amount of liquid pouring down on them is like locking him in a dark room. Oddly enough, she thinks he's more afraid of the blood than the darkness in this room. He makes the noise again, reaching behind to grasp her hand.

She feels a draft and sees the dying light from outside as she hears the doorway they had entered opening again. Seconds pass as she flexes her hand in Reid's. She can't hear anything over the roaring in her ears. Someone breathing on her neck forces her to turn away from Reid, glaring into the darkness. She cries out at the sharp slap. Reid, still holding her hand, returns to her side in time for him to be slapped too.

Blood is still dripping onto them.

She feels the Unsub moving and wonders what he has planned. Reid suddenly yelps, sputtering as blood enters his open mouth. When their hands are violently yanked apart, she immediately strikes out, her hand slamming into someone's stomach. Mentally calculating Reid's height compared to hers, she determines she hit the Unsub.

She swings again, more force in her hit. Empty air. "Reid?" she calls uncertainly. Where the hell did he go?

Suddenly, lights flash on and she has to squint to protect her retinas. Through the unnatural brightness and the still falling shower of red, she is able to locate Reid slumped against the wall. Standing over him is the Unsub, a thin man with night vision goggles perched atop his messy black hair.

"Gilbert Kroun?" She has correctly identified the man. "What are you doing?" She's frightened that Reid hasn't moved. Maybe she did hit him earlier, although that wouldn't have knocked him out.

"I didn't want to do it," the man speaks plaintively, much like Reid does when someone steals his coffee or makes fun of him. "They made me do it."

"Who are they?" She needs to get closer. She needs to know if Reid is okay. "Is he okay?" _Wake up, Reid. Tell me what's wrong with the Unsub._

As she glances between Reid and Kroun, JJ remembers the victimology and snorts. The victim that is incapacitated is the weaker of the two. Reid is not weaker than her. He is the strongest person she knows. His battle scars far outweigh anything else the team has, even Hotch's. Everything, personal or not, gets to him, breaks his soul a little at a time, a little more each time. And yet he carries on.

She feels the rain lessen and thanks God for tiny favors. The last of the blood of Kroun's eight victims spills down, dripping from her body. There is entirely too much blood contained in eight people. Then she realizes that she's still holding her gun. She raises it, pointing it at Kroun's chest. The man notices the gun and points Reid's gun at her head. He must have picked it up when he hit Reid earlier.

It's the first time anyone has aimed the weapon of a friend at her and she feels her heart skip. Beside Kroun, Reid groans softly, curling onto his side, arms wrapped over his abdomen. He draws Kroun's attention from her with a gentle kick to the psychotic killer's leg. While Kroun is momentarily distracted with Reid, she runs forward, slapping the gun from his hand.

Kroun turns back to her, wrestling for control of her firearm. She's not letting go. She could get hurt. Reid could get hurt.

Beneath their tangled feet, Reid grabs his fallen gun, cradling it to his chest as one of JJ's heels lands dangerously close to his head. He notices the blood has stopped falling and stands.

Neither of the fighting people freezes at the safety clicking off so he yells at them. His voice is unnaturally loud for him and he jumps slightly. His gun, however, is steady.

He provides enough of a distraction for JJ to yank her gun away from Kroun's slippery fingers and step back so that Reid, infinitely better with marksmanship than her now that he follows through—and not haunted by Tobias Hankle and his dogs every click of a safety—has a clear shot.

"Go ahead!" Kroun yells, lunging forward and forcing the agents back. "Shoot me, kill me! They have abandoned me."

"You can't be abandoned by what was never there," Reid reasons quietly. "Get us out of here."

"Then you'll kill me?" Reid looks around the room and JJ sees something in his eyes. Determination…Fear…Sympathy. He pouts slightly, pulling his upper lip into his mouth, a nervous habit that even the blood on his lips can't break. In the light he looks much younger than he is. He appears more vulnerable than she can ever remember him being.

"Can I count on you to kill me?"

"Shut up," she advises, knowing that Reid is close to a breakdown of some sort. "Open the door and we'll talk." She leads Reid back to the front door, puts his hand on the cold metal. She hopes that it'll help shock him back to himself. He blinks at her before making a small keening noise in his throat.

Her throat closes at the sound.

He's covered in blood and a bruise is forming on his cheek. He looks like he partook of a serious spree killing. He gently touches her cheek and she realizes that she looks a little like Carrie at her prom, only without the white dress. Now all they need is more people so she can go ballistic.

Reid clears his throat and that interrupts her movie-fueled daydream. Suddenly a curiosity worse than when she'd decided her parents had to explain the origin of everything wells up in her and she turns to face her friend.

"How'd he overpower you?" She doesn't mean to sound demeaning, but it's obvious from the look on his face that he takes it as such.

"He hit me with something…I couldn't see it." He motions towards the door and Kroun steps up to it. With the lights on, JJ can see what they were doing wrong earlier: near the top is a strap that, when wrapped around a wrist, would provide the leverage needed to pull the door open.

Waving her gun at him, she sends Kroun into the cool air. He steps out into the waiting arms of the BAU and the local police.

"Gilbert Kroun, you are under arrest for the murders of eight people and the kidnapping and assault of two federal agents." While the local police take charge of Kroun, the members of the BAU surround their agents.

"Can we get cleaned up, please?" Reid looks pleadingly at everyone and she sees the same emotions from earlier. He is borderline hysterical. It might be funny if he wasn't covered in blood and trying to fight back tears.

No one moves for a few seconds until he repeats his request.

"After the way your room was ransacked," Emily says to Reid, leading them to the back of one of the SUVs, "I decided to bring all our go-bags." JJ vaguely recalls the incident—something about Reid going for a walk before sleeping and returning to find all his things scattered across the room. Emily hands it to him, brushing a little of the drying liquid from his shirt.

JJ is thankful to Emily for acting almost normal. Reid seems happy too, and he smiles.

But the smile doesn't reach his eyes and JJ wonders when he'll be okay. Morgan and Hotch offer to hold blankets so that Reid can change in relative privacy. Rossi is made to hold the evidence bags. No one says anything, but she knows they know Reid is broken.

He looks so fragile, just head and shoulders visible above the gray material of the rescue blankets. Emily watches her watching him.

"His soul is the least intact right now," she mentions, shielding JJ from any prying eyes by hanging another blanket off the hatch. "I can't say don't worry, but I will tell you that he'll be fine with support."

"I'm not sure how much was taken this time," she admits, already done changing and ready to accept the wet towels Emily is offering her. Damn, these cops are prepared for everything. They watch with amusement as Morgan and Hotch double-team to scrub the blood off a semi-responsive and obviously embarrassed Reid. "I'm not sure how much was lost."

"We never are."

_~ The Weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong. ~_

**_ * Mahatma Gandhi *_**

***~***

**A/N: There is absolutely no evidence on the show that Reid suffers from hemophobia (fear of blood)—there is probably evidence to the contrary—But, hello, creative license.**

**The story is named after a Peter Gabriel song (Red Rain), but the inspiration came, oddly enough, from Headlock by Imogen Heap.**

**I don't know how many times I have edited this story, but there are mistakes. Please take the time and care to point them out to me. Thank you.**


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